Page 63 of The Best Kind of Forever
TO (ALMOST) LOSE AND TO LOVE
AERIS
Iraced over to the house as soon as I could. My hands didn’t stop shaking during the entire drive over. I’m barely keeping myself together after that melee broke out during the game. That didn’t seem like your average, run-of-the-mill scuffle.
The guys say Hayes is doing fine, but that doesn’t expunge my coldblooded fear. No, it only exacerbates it. Just because a split lip didn’t warrant the need for a gurney doesn’t mean he isn’t aching from all those hits.
My nerves make a mad dash for my throat, the blood in my ears overpowering the sound of my heart. The voices from the living room carry over to the entrance of the house, and I sprint on unsteady legs to where Hayes is sitting on the couch, an ice pack pressed to his face.
My mind is spinning like a Tilt-A-Whirl, and my gaze cruises over the lacquered blood sheeting down his chin. There’s already a bruise forming along his jaw. Oh, God. I can’t imagine how much pain he must be in right now.
“Hayes!” I’m careful not to hug him too tightly, and his arms don’t wrap around me the way they usually do.
He grimaces, shifting uncomfortably to make room next to him.
“I’m okay,” he says, his reddened hand on the back of my head, tethering his fingers in my hair. It’s an action that normally pacifies me, but it seems to be doing nothing for my panic.
The guys give us the room to talk in private.
“What happened out there?” I whisper, pressing my forehead to his, our lips just barely touching.
“Oh, you know, normal hockey stuff.”
He’s okay. He doesn’t look as hurt as I thought he was, but I can’t get my emotions under control. Tears drill behind my eyes, and I gulp down the loud sob that wants to desecrate the silence.
“Aeris, I’m okay,” he repeats, a modicum of worry in his eyes.
I can’t think straight. I can’t see straight. I can’t catch my breath. Hayes’ voice is a million miles away from me, and anxiety ensnares me as if I’m an unsuspecting fly caught in the chiffon labyrinth of a spider’s web. When he reaches out to touch me, I backpedal away from him.
“Whatreallyhappened out there?” I ask, but I’m not sure I even want to hear the answer.
“This asshole started insulting you, and I just lost my shit.”
Hayes got into a fightbecauseof me?
“You can’t let those kinds of people get to you.” I grab the damp washcloth next to him and wipe away gouts of blood from his knuckles. He winces from the contact, but he doesn’t pull away.
His tongue is sharp, like a double-edged blade. “When it comes to the people I care about, I’m not going to let anything slide.”
There’s something feral about the gleam in his eyes, and it’s partnered with a warning growl in the back of his throat. I decide it’s best not to push him, and in that moment, I also decide not to tell him what my father said. I’m aware hockey’s a violent sport, but there was a part of me that was afraid I’d lose Hayes tonight. I don’t think I’d survive losing him, and that’s why I’m choosing to ignore my dad’s pathetic warning.
“Can I do anything?” I look helplessly at the bandage box and the bottle of painkillers on the coffee table.
“Just be here. With me.”
Even though the couch isn’t as wide and comfy as his bed, there’s nowhere in the world I’d rather be right now. He lies down with a grimace and makes room for me. I squeeze into the space he’s carved out, gently pressing my back to his chest.
“Thank you,” he mumbles sluggishly, tightening his grip on me ever so slightly.
“For what?”
“For staying.”
Judging by the soft snores vibrating against my spine, I’m pretty sure Hayes has already passed out, so I whisper the last words to myself.
“I’ll always stay.”
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